On the weekend I took the near-blasphemous step of breaking out the patio furniture; it had been lovingly stacked at the side of the house last fall and covered in tarps and bound with bungee cords, sort of like that body under the leafy mound at the back of the lot.
The cushions are in the patio bin, ready to be deployed at a moment’s notice, although the truth is we don’t expect them to be in use anytime soon. But there is a comfort in knowing that if I wanted to sit out there, I could.
More likely is me getting a photo of the patio furniture covered in snow. I’m not ruling that out, either.
So firm has spring’s grip grabbed our neighbourhood that even my spouse took to barbequing yesterday afternoon for the boys, solo, informing me when I got home that I would be wanting to deal with a small ant problem on the patio right away. Not to be confused with a small aunt problem, which may or may not be under a small leafy mound at the back of the lot.
The ants were a figurative and literal problem. Continue reading